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2013.06.27 - Nonestic Ocean
Docks of the Naja Trading Co. primary storage and shipping facility located in Madripoor Harbor (formerly Victory Harbor). Madripoor's harbor is one of the great natural harbors of the world yet is still a virtual 'booty bay' as it hosts more than its share of pirates, raiders, smugglers and in general criminal sorts, however, it also boasts an impressive influx/outflux of commercial and industrial ventures, there are ships from all around the world docked here from trash barges, tankers to freighters full of cars or livestock to whatever else is in demand. To say the least it is very active day and night. The Naja Trading Co. is one of the fastest growing companies in the world and personally owned by the Baroness herself, the warehouse and port facility itself testament to the wealth and progress. Taskmaster stands just outside the structure on the docks overlooking the entire wharf, it's to some extent sectioned off from the rest of the harbor and other ships are more or less kept out of it's waters by marked bouys. This doesn't keep all of them out but it's a deterrent of some sort. This is Madripoor after all an island of thieves, cutthroats and scoundrels. One does not simply put up fences to keep the neighbors off your yard. Not to mention there is a substantial community of 'boat people' who inhabit the docks that boast drug dens, whore houses, shops and all manner of illicit activity from their floating community. These frequently drift through day in and day out. The skull motif normally sported by the mercenary unseen as he stands there in a black tee shirt and shorts. His arms folded over his chest while staring out in the ocean. That familiar yet unfamiliar Zayin stands to his left, Roy has met the man once or at least been introduced and not seen him since; it's hard to overlook that rather stylish handlebar mustache or Pinkerton style suit he sports. The Archer has been brought with to get a look at what exactly is transpiring, it would appear they are not exactly hiding much at this point, within earshot of the two he can overhear, "Deathstroke finished that little job? No shocker. Quicker than I expected though." Taskmaster's voice, not Zayin's. Zayin is very soft spoken and his voice doesnt' carry well. An eye twitch at the mention of Deathstroke, but Roy says little about the situation, instead watching the harbor transaction occur. With little indication at the moment what is happening other than that -something- is about to transit. Leaning over closer to listen to Zayin, Roy frowns. "Look, I have no idea what you're talking about. What's happening here, and speak louder, will you?" Roy's eyes shift towards the various boat people, picking out situations that might or might not be worth keeping an eye on. Zayin's blue eyes level on Roy, "That is because it is not really about you or involving you. You are simply here as hired muscle." No change in his volume. Taskmaster's lips quirk back and he manages a smile or what classifies as one. He doesn't tend to smile with his teeth much which ends up being a lot of smirks. "Now now Zayin, be nice to the new guy. We're discussing the headache this General Coy is causing the boss lady right now. One of her ships hasn't arrived." A casual motion has him waving his hand out at the ocean. "It's forty minutes late and no one has contacted us. That is the third shipment in two weeks. Pirates ain't that bold." Not to mention pirates are not usually that bold. They know who Naja Trading Co. is for the most part, early example was made and given. "Well, if that's a problem..." Roy wasn't exactly broken up about it -other- than that things were going to what might be a far uglier opponent to deal with. "Why don't we just pay him a visit and show him exactly what we think of his stunts?" Nudging Taskmaster, Roy grins. "And maybe she'll be grateful and thank us, hey?" Not that it'd happen. More likely, she'd just spin around and head away. Of course, watching her leave was in its own way a good thing... "Stuffy McTightpants is right. At the moment we're in no position to directly visit Coy. That is why we are responding with messages of our own." Bloodscream and Roughouse two such. "We'll see how it goes from there. For now we protect our assets and wait. Fun eh?" A craft manned by three men and their very own Baroness draws up alongside the pier. Beautiful thing really, sleek, all decked in black and brimming with high tech weaponry. The ship too. "Our ride." Apparent thing, that storm, one that seemed to rest behind frigid blue gaze, emphasized by glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Dark clouds in the form of framing lashes set the placement of narrowed gaze as the ship pulled up. Baroness' jaw is firmly set and determination is present even as she stands there while the ship slows to the dock, her hands typing over a data-pads keyboard, the other rising to sweep over the projected imagery of latitudes and longitudes over the vast ocean's body. One hip is thrust to the side, a plated and booted foot propped on one of the seats she refused to take despite the drivers behest. "You may want to sit, if you fall..." "Then you feel every bruise. Drive /carefully/.." She couldn't sit, she paced and checked on locales, last knowns, as well as trying to surmise the last few missing as well. Pulling up her eyes briefly flick towards Taskmaster and Roy, pausing the scanning data to turn towards them. "Nothing new, I presume?" "Other than a ship that hasn't come in, forty minutes late, and hasn't called in, nope," Roy replies, bringing two fingers to his brow in a snappy informal salute, a broad wolfish grin on his face. Tugging at his shirt in an attempt to get more cool air, Roy tilts his head back towards Taskmaster. "So we're off to see the Wizard now?" "Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't they?" Zayin remarks before hopping in to the ship to land near the Baroness. Light footed and graceful even in dress shoes. Most remarkably he lands without a sound. "The Scarecrow? I would have pegged you more for a Tin Man myself." Comments Taskmaster in regards to the first. It would seem it's Oz day. "No, but we are about to have a bit of fun no doubt." The ship itself is not large, not even the size of a patrol boat used by most coast guards but it's clearly modified and new a trained eye can recognize the telltale signs of something /more/. A prototype and one of the Baroness' new toys developed by her weapons department. "What he said. I am sure you already knew this though." Taskmaster replies as the vessel strikes course and starts to cut through the waves. A small quirk came to one corner of her lips while the other side remained poised in eternal ire and disappointment. The masque of comedy and tragedy with a foreboding and omni-present looming anger, that is how the Baroness wore her facade. Glancing to Zayin the look held, slight amusement but her mind was on something a bit more pressing. "Sometimes, though, in their brainlessness something useful comes to fruition. Never believe anyones -play-." She states to Zayin, her tenor carrying something akin to a growling purr in the backdrop as fingers come forward and pluck at his tie, eyes scanning him. Sighing at the news from Roy, Task and Zayin though she shifts the tablet in hand out towards them, letting the holograph-ed image hover there. "Last known coordinates. And to think I was hoping for good news. At least my new toy gets a good hunting run." Now she is smiling, and it is nothing friendly as she bends forward and smooths a hand over the ships ridge, gripping just as the engine goes from an idling purr to a starting roar. There was something about the way that Baroness was talking that had Roy wondering if she knew -something-. The most dangerous players were those who had aces up their sleeves, something to hold back for emergencies, and Baroness certainly seemed to be one of those people. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Some people with brains don't talk very much, and end up not getting heard at all, eh?" Roy greets, falling in next to Zayin and elbowing him a bit in a comradely manner. "You got to lighten up a bit. Otherwise you're just going to explode from having a tight sphincter, and I can tell you, that's not a pleasant thing." Looking at Taskmaster, Roy grins. "So long as we're not a cowardly lion." Peeking at the holograph-ed image, Roy nods. "Whatever you say, miss. Lead on." The abrupt speed can be felt by all on board with a sudden jolt that causes the front end of the boat to lift up above the waves it is slapping up and down against as it pierces them launching out to sea. There are seats enough for everyone to sit down and those three /henchmen/ who were with Baroness when she pulled up move aside for Roy, Zayin and Task. Those men unlike everyone else (save perhaps Baroness) are actually outfitted for combat with tac vests and sub-machine guns. Zayin takes the elbow and casts a return glare. You just can't win some over. The man then proceeds to seat himself so he can preen at his suit while mustache tails whip against his cheeks. Taskmaster remains standing, clutching the side rail and keeping himself steady. "Don't mind him, Bard. He's an ass." Having to shout now to be heard above the engine roar, wind beating at them and the crash of waves. "I have yet to see the man smile unless the Food Network is on." Fast is an understatement. This ship is flying over the water racing past several fishing ships and around a large tanker it breaks it's way past the outer harbor range and continues through the ocean. The sun beating down on it's black hull causing it to almost shimmer like obsidian. Madripoor itself becoming a speck on the horizon soon. Baroness is not Dorothy. Likely Madame Horrible - one 'wicked' that you could never quite put your finger on in just 'how' bad or good things will go and her role in it all, but she helped sew the seeds on the witches at their start. Still keeping her grip there, Baroness did not take a seat either, instead her chin tilted up and the salted wind made from the cutting speed caught her hair, sending it out behind her in lashes. Those dark red lips bore a small smile as she was almost with a look of a lions contentment - one of being on the hunt. Letting the men commence their camaraderie of undertones insults that somehow made a bonding adhesive, she finally lowers her head to tilt it and watch them as the pace became one enough she could shift with ease and stand to face them all. "This is not the first time this has happened, I do hope to make it the last." Glancing to Roy specifically at a moment the smile lingers. "If we can leave one alive I want a message sent. Lets be creative. Everyone /loves/ gifts." Then her gaze rests on Task and Zayin, one brow rising. She was unsure if Roy would do it, but she knew the others would. Message sent, loud and clear. "Oh right." Making a note to slip some Ex-Lax into Zayin's drink next time, Roy nods at Taskmaster, before glancing at Baroness. There was a slight note of hesitation, but then Roy nods slowly. "Just one alive, eh?" the redhead notes, frowning slowly as he considers just what he has to do. Tsk. This was one case where Roy might have followed Domino's advice, but... somehow, he'd have to figure it out whenever it happened... "Okay enough already, boss lady. Let's get this show on the road," Roy says quickly, the sooner the better. Less thinking might actually -help- for this case... It is within the next twenty minutes they come across the first signs of wreckage. A shipment container is half jutting from the water, held there by the air pocket trapped inside that will soon cease and let it sink. Smoke can also be picked out in the distance. The driver taps the front console and shouts over his shoulder, "Our last signal is just ahead." Zayin tips his chin up and looks around the side of the ship. "Miss DeCobray, I shall take note for your monetary loss." Prompt and straight to work the man pulls out a small hand-sized tablet and begins to slide a stylus over it. Letting her know he was about to do so is actual legal courtesy and requirement. As an accounting adviser for her and for the organization he represents. "Toldja he is an ass." White-knuckled Taskmaster says. His own expression looks grim the further out to sea they get. He's not a fan of water. He's made this abundantly clear but won't consider himself a weak man in any situation. This being one of those where he is just going the FIDO route and rolling with it. Jobs a job. Beyond the cargo container they find more bits of ship and several floating corpses until they are soon slowly cruising through the debris of Naja Trading Co.' missing ship. To their east a bright yellow emergency raft is visible beyond the wreckage with several waving figures upon it. Obviously trying to get their attention. They will go ignored and the mission will proceed unless the driver is told otherwise. "Pirates didn't take a thing." Taskmaster comments offhandedly. "Looks like it was your boy Coy again." The attack is clearly recent from the burbling in the water where the major portion of the ship has just went under. "We can still catch them." The eager driver states. They can and in the not to far away horizon they've been chasing since they left Madripoor they can make out the black dots of the two /pirate/ ships. Roy's remarkable vision can actually see a lot more than that but really what is there to point out about a ship full of killers. They're ships are converted fishing boats with Soviet era weaponry. Baroness turns and leans over the rail, both hands gripping it with a knuckle-whitening force that is not in the ame driven manner as Taskmasters. No, she is getting enraged as the sight is starting to unfold by the bits of cargo that now float past. Useless even if they fished them out, and the same went for the Naja employess out to sea on a life raft. She is not about to take them on board, they would only get in the way, and now she is righting her stance and directing the tac geared men towards the M30 machine guns as well as preparations for if/when /Coy/ comes in sight. Turning on Roy then she smiles, but it isn't anything comforting. "Enough what? You really need to get used to it, I'm meticulous on how things get done." Someone is going to get used as a message board, doesn't matter who is behind it, turning then she claims a seat, pulling one of her own HK's from a storage slot, loading it. "I don't have all day, let's catch them and let the fun begin." Noticing at least four ways to shoot and sink the ship without causing any causalities (at least, if they weren't foolish and wanted to go down with the ship), Roy instead hold his tongue with regard to the antiquated fishing boats (really, when the weaponry were -older- than he was, how much trouble could -that- be?). Instead, he jauntily waves at the Naja employees, motioning them back towards shore, before flashing a grin at the Baroness. "Oh, let's see if I live up to your satisfaction, miss." Pulling out his Springfield pistols, Roy loads them quickly and swiftly. Hollow point bullets. Not much choice here, but he could at least make it look -good-. And really, given the reports about the General's troops... could he live with killing? He'd have to. The m30s the men are indicated towards actually fold out of the sides of the attack craft. Hidden there. Upon command upon the forward section of the ship another weapon actually reveals itself; a nose pointed weapon on a swivel that doesn't exactly look normal. Roy's been in this line of work his whole life but he knows what a laser tends to look like. It's like some Bond villain boat when it comes down to it. Another surge forward and the ship skips a wave to launch through the air and come down with a roar as the distance between them and their targets diminishes rapidly. The first potshots come from the pirates, splashing down in the water around them. The nearest ship actually has something akin to a heavy anti-ship cannon. Eruptions around them designate each missing hit. The Moray isn't exactly your typical sized assaulter and the pilot is surprisingly good at evasion as he gets in closer. It's slow motion that the ship to ship battle begins, loud thumps of machine gun fire from the 30's and return blasts from the cannon aboard the closer ship. Men have begun to line up along the sailboats and open fire as well with their own firearms which don't compare to the range of the larger weapons. It's the speed and surprise the Moray has on it's side also superior weaponry. It is ages ahead of these ill fated pirates. With the XM-8 strapped now loaded fully and resting angled across her back, Baroness levees her rooting to the side and approaches the laser as it begins its ascent to sight. A quick hunt, an easy hunt, they messed with the wrong people at the wrong time - just in time for the Moray to be tested on the 'Minnows'. Soon enough she'd have bigger game, especially if her message leaves the bigger fish upset. Both hands grip the mounted laser, booted feet planted in a parted and braced stance as she swings it around towards one of the ships, pressing the button that has what lies within rapidly charged. She doesn't aim to just mar the hull of the ship though, she begins at the very top, where some men were standing at the edge and firing down, now quickly finding themselves split by a precise incision of a very large laser that is sent to cut from top to bottom. Oh good, for a moment while yet, Roy -could- salvage his conscience. Tucking his Springfields back into their holsters, the agent immediately takes charge of one of the two anti-ship missiles. It wasn't going to be too difficult to take aim for a minimum of causalities, especially with an antiquated fishing boat. Unless, of course, they had even -more- explosives in their cargo hold that Roy hadn't expected... But surely, they wouldn't be that foolish... Would they? Anti-Personnel fire at it's best like trained in any military installment when firing a weapon like that she rakes the laser across in a Z and melts downwards in to the ships side. People melt fast, metal doesnt. The screams are rather horrific and cut short as that beam cuts through them. The anti-ship missiles pack enough of a punch no extra explosives are required in the converted fishing barge to cause it's back end to erupt and pop under the water. The bulb like explosion outwards seemed slow starting at first until it suddenly bloomed to life like some fiery blossom. It's sailors launch skyward like hurled toys as the back end of the ship blows up and tosses them in all directions. The return fire is halted as men on-board each scramble for survival. The Baroness laser has the side of that ship heating up, glowing, visibly changing color before the resistance yields and slices through carving up the pirate's ship like a pumpkin and setting it to suddenly fold in on it's side as it begins to sink. Superior firepower seems to be the theme right now. Okay, she is a fan, a very big fan of this laser, and perhaps it shows as she rests a hand atop it once it is done cutting through that ship like room temperature butter. Leaning forward one arm slings over it, gripping a side to ease her figure in a bent position to peer over into the water and un-sling her XM-8 from behind to in front. Aiming out over the water of floating bodies, be they alive or dead, she opens fire with the assault rifle, peppering splashes over the tumultuous surface. "Bard, drag a survivor on board." She calls back over her shoulder as the spray begins to slow to a shot here and there, the amount of survivors she sees slimming down. Nice form, Baroness. And not just for the laser. Still, as Baroness opens fire, Roy concentrates more on his own task. Minimize causalities, at the least. "Aye aye," Roy replies flatly, as he first finishes up with the ship, doing his best to make sure that, at least, the lifeboats were functional -and- making sure his fire was keeping the boats away from the Baroness. Once he's seen a few survivors, Roy starts pulling one on board, one who actually -looks- like he might have some answers for what's going on, being at least of a slightly better dressed nature than the rest. There are plenty still alive but in what condition and how long are good questions to ask. Taskmaster manages to release his death grip on the rails long enough to help Roy haul one of them aboard as the Moray swings around to gather one up now doing a slow idle circle around the sinking to obliterated ships, much like a shark. One of the more bloodthirsty of the henchmen actually firing off several rounds here and there to kill would be survivors. As soon as the man was sprawled in a heap at their feet the Moray's pilot engages the throttle sending them back towards the island of Madripoor. Coughing and sputtering the man curls in to a ball and places his hands above his head his Japanese spit out very quickly and will require fluent to keep up with at this pace. It's obvious the man is fearful and doesn't want to die though. "Moray prototype is to your liking then, ma'am?" Asks the man seated beside the driver. Paying little mind to their new captive. "Very much so." Baroness states, her mood having shifted from angered to a placated serpent to the piper, that piper being revenge served cold, and yet the 'charmer' will only last as long as he keeps moving with played pipe in hand, if he stills it is his end. Slow and steady strides carry her with ease towards the captive that is sputtering his language in a manner that has her lowering down to a crouch beside him, the XM-8 held to her side as her empty hand slides under his chin and urges him to look up with a touch bordering on soothing. A calm had reached her core but not her eyes as she keeps her sights on the captive, a response in Japanese murmured back to him in a tenor that even matches her demeanor. //"Now, now. Participate and I assure you, you will live..."// Though, now the XM-8 is slowly brought around as his head begins to rise, and if looked closely upon the compensator at the end of the barrel bears a flared cobra's head instead of the holes. The man begins speaking rapidly again, while watching from periphery as the muzzle gets closer, her grip on his jaw closing down to try and keep him in place as she presses that searing hot compensator against his cheek, branding him with that Cobra sigil. Now speaking in that Russian accented English. "But I cannot promise no pain..." The sharks were coming, attracted by the blood and viscera in the ocean, and Roy, looking back at the Baroness, exchanges a glance with Taskmaster, before turning back towards the sea. The ones that were left in the ocean, that could not be saved by the boats fleeing the area... There was a moment of hesitation, and then Roy pulls out his Springfield. -BANG- -BANG- -BANG- The least Roy could do was make their deaths quick, rather than leave them to the sharks. Both the ones in the ocean, and the one aboard the ship. One glance at Roy then another to Baroness and Zayin begins taking notes with his tablet again. Taskmaster seems uninterested in either of what is going on, the ship way massacre nor the impending torture of the captive. As the Moray glides back towards Madripoor the merciful sounds of gunshots die off as they fall out of range along with that shrill scream of the burnt pirate. All in all it has been a fairly eventful if not costly day for /Cobra/ and company. "And here I came to Madripoor on vacation." Taskmaster can be heard saying as the flare of the sun blurs out the scene. Category:Log